


Rarely Pure, Never Simple

by MorganD



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence, Jalec Sexy September, M/M, Mental Torture, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-28
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2019-01-06 12:19:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12211161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorganD/pseuds/MorganD
Summary: An unexpected guest shows up for Jace and Alec’s parabatai ceremony.





	Rarely Pure, Never Simple

“ _What_ are you wearing?”

For a moment, Alec thought the person at his bedroom door was Isabelle. The question and the disapproving tone on this particular issue were typical of his little sister. But while their voices were similar, Alec could not mistake the commanding tone as belonging to anyone but their mother.

Alec looks down at his clothes. The question is clearly rhetorical, as Maryse can clearly _see_ what he is wearing. Gray tank top, black trousers, black belt, all clean and relatively new. Black boots, polished the day before. “Something wrong with it?”

“It’s your parabatai ceremony, Alec! Don’t you think that’s too casual?”

“I’m pretty sure Jace is wearing something similar.”

Maryse comes to stand right in front of him, looking him up and down. “At least put on a dress shirt.”

“Won’t that make things more awkward? More fabric to get out of the way when it’s time for Jace to draw the rune on me.”

“Speaking of that, I hope you have chosen a _proper_ place to draw the runes.”

“On our left flanks, above the hip.”

Maryse’s frown deepens. “That’s not very… You know your father’s parabatai rune was on his chest, right over his heart.”

“I know, but I want mine to be on the same spot it’ll be on Jace, and Jace’s chest is practically covered with runes already.”

“Just _please_ keep in mind the gravitas of the occasion.”

“Of _course_ , Mother. I know how important this is.”

“I should talk to Jace. Make sure he realizes this is not the time or place for his usual antics.”

“I’m sure he does.” Alec eyes his mother in bewilderment. “You were not this nervous until now. What has gotten you so worried all of a sudden?”

Maryse gives Alec a measuring look, as if she were trying to ascertain whether he could handle what she had to say. “Inquisitor Herondale is coming to watch the ceremony.”

Alec feels a chill run down his spine. “Isn’t that… _unusual?”_

“Very,” Maryse mutters.

“What do you think she wants?”

She adjusts his hair—he got it cut for the occasion, but no matter how short, its natural unruliness perseveres. “You’re a Lightwood. And Jace’s talent and strength is well known in Idris. The two of you are bound to become highly prominent figures of our society in the years to come. Naturally, your bonding is a momentous occasion.”

“So… you think her coming here is a good thing?”

Maryse offers her son a proud smile. “The Inquisitor’s presence shows the Clave’s interest in the both of you. In _us_. It is a sign of prestige. That is why you must make sure that you’re worthy of it.”

Alec nods, trying to disguise his nervous gulp.

_Like I needed any more reasons to be anxious about today…_

He’s been dreaming about it for the last two weeks straight. Mostly bad dreams. Dreams in which he realizes in the middle of the ceremony that he’s completely naked. In which his mind blanks out and he forgets the outline of the parabatai rune. In which he does draw the rune, only to see that he’s drawn the _wrong_ rune. In which spiders rain over him and Jace as they recite their oath. In which he’s told at the last minute that the traditional oath is to be replaced with a spontaneous speech, and he can’t find any words to say. In which he gets burned by the ceremonial fire. In which the fire doesn’t erupt at all.

In which the bonding goes without a hitch, but then Jace _looks_ at him… and Alec can actually _feel_ Jace’s regret for having tied himself to such a pathetic creature.

He wonders if Jace is feeling on edge as well. Alec didn’t dare tell him about his dreams, fearing his friend might take them as a sign of hesitation. There is nothing Alec wants more than the certainty that he will be by Jace’s side for as long as they live. He can’t have Jace doubt that even for a second.

He’s told Isabelle about the dreams, though. Or rather, she forcefully extracted the truth from him after repeated torture sessions that involved constant nagging, out-of-key singing, and blackmail threats if he didn’t reveal what had turned him into even more of a sourpuss lately. He doesn’t resent Izzy for it, though. Well, he doesn’t resent her _much_. She means well, and she did point out something he hadn’t realized until she mentioned it.

In none of his dreams Jace ever failed to show up, or left before the ritual was over.

_‘He’s an idiot, just like you. But he knows what he wants.’_

Alec takes a deep breath and corrects his posture, raising his head and straightening his shoulders. _Control your emotions. Don’t let your fears rule over you._

He’s got this. He’s well prepared. He and Jace aced all their tests. He knows the oath by heart and can recite it backwards if someone asks him to. He can draw the parabatai rune with his eyes closed and standing on his head.

_Nothing to worry about._

“Jace and I, we’re at our best together,” he tells Maryse confidently. “And that’s exactly what the Inquisitor will see. Our very best.”

He sees his mother’s face beam with such delight that he can’t help to feel like he can beat any obstacles ahead of him.

_Beside Jace, I know I can._

* * *

Jace is wearing a gray tee shirt instead of a gray tank top. That’s pretty much the only difference in their outfits.

Jace is also wearing a troubled frown that looks rather strange on the usually carefree face. _Is he worried about the Inquisitor?_

But then Jace turns and sees Alec come in… and smiles. And he stands up straight, as if a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

_He was afraid I wouldn’t show up._

Alec’s heart is filled with affection and disbelief. How could Jace possibly think that he wouldn’t come? All the demons of Edom combined in one giant army would not have kept Alec from being here, from making the vow that would make them eternally inseparable.

He joins Jace in the middle of the training room, which has been properly decorated for the occasion. Robert, Isabelle, and Max are standing a little to the side, and Maryse joins them a moment later. Alec gets a solemn nod from his father, a grinning wink from his little sister, and a sleepy wave from his four-year-old brother.

A few of the highest-ranked Shadowhunters of the New York Institute are present as well, all lined up and standing to attention. Hodge is among them, and Alec is surprised to notice that the weapons trainer also looks uncharacteristically anxious. _Probably not eager to see an Inquisitor in the Institute, given his past._ Alec has heard Imogen Herondale is even more hardline than her predecessor, who sentenced Hodge to be cursed so he could never leave the New York Institute.

“Are you worried?” Alec asks Jace in a whisper.

“Not anymore,” Jace whispers back, grinning from ear to ear.

Alec feels his cheeks burn. He couldn’t have stopped himself from returning that smile even if he tried. “I was talking about the Inquisitor.”

“I know.”

“Not worried at all?”

“We’re the best team, remember? Think about it. Think about the _future_. Who wouldn’t want to be able to say that they were present to witness the moment when Jace Wayland and Alec Lightwood became parabatai?”

Alec smirks. “Humble as ever, are we?”

“We are going to be _legends_ , Alec. Get used to the idea.”

Alec’s sarcastic reply dies in his lips when he hears marching stops approaching. Everyone in the room turns to the hallway, where the Inquisitor makes a tremendous entrance, austere in her official gray robes, hair tied up in an impeccable bun, and a rather grim look on her face. She is flanked by six members of the Inquisitor’s Guard in their dress uniforms, each holding a long black staff topped by an adamas ornament in the shape of the angelic rune.

Behind them, an even more formidable figure walks in. A Silent Brother, his steps as light as the guards’ are loud.

In his arms, he carries a long, red cushion with golden tassels.

On the cushion lies the Soul-Sword.

* * *

“Wow. That was fucking rude.”

“Shh!”

“I mean, it was bad enough that the woman had to come in with a damn parade. Doesn’t she know that you’re not supposed to outshine the parabatai in their own ceremony? I’m pretty sure that’s written in some Nephilim etiquette book somewhere.”

“Jace, be quiet, please.”

“But then she has the _nerve_ to delay the proceedings? Who does she think she is?”

“I’m reasonably sure that she thinks she’s the Inquisitor. Maybe because _she is_.”

“I don’t care who she is. She wasn’t even invited.”

“Hush!”

“It’s just the two of us here, Alec.”

“She’s going to come in any second now, and I don’t want her to catch you badmouthing her when she does!”

Jace rolls his eyes and drops onto an armchair, crossing his arms over his chest.

Alec remains standing in the center of his parents’ office, unable to relax. They’ve been told to wait here while Maryse and Robert talk to the Inquisitor. He could see by the change in his mother’s demeanor that she has lost all hope that Imogen Herondale’s presence in the Institute might be a good thing.

“Easy, Alec. We have nothing to worry about.”

“You don’t know that. We don’t know what the Inquisitor wants.”

“I do.”

Alec blinks in confusion. “What?”

Jace shrugs. “She thinks we cheated.”

“Cheated? You mean, in our tests?”

“Yeah. Remember what they said? _‘Best results since these particular tests were designed.’_ Face it, Alec, we’re too good to be believable.” Jace’s cocky grin is both endearing and exasperating.

“I really wish they had never told us that. If your head gets any bigger, you’re gonna need a wheelbarrow to carry it around.”

“I’m right, though. Why do you think she brought the Soul-Sword with her?”

That is indeed the question. The Soul-Sword is no ornamental piece. The Clave would not allow its removal from the City of Bones without a good reason. “You think they’re going to interrogate us?”

“Duh!”

Alec feels his stomach drop. Having the Inquisitor’s suspicion upon him is bad enough, but knowing that she would not trust them to tell the truth without magically forcing it out of them? _Why? What does she think we’ve done?_

He pictures his parents’ faces in his mind as they are informed of this. _What they must be thinking?_ His mother’s joyful expression as she gazed at him only a few minutes ago… surely gone by now. Having the Clave doubt the word and integrity of a Lightwood? This is the exact _opposite_ of prestige.

And that’s not the only thing weighting in Alec’s mind. “I’ve read that holding the Soul-Sword when giving testimony is… _agony_.”

“Alec, don’t freak out, okay? Just calm down and… enjoy the opportunity.”

“Opportunity to what?! To have my mind crushed by the power of a Mortal Instrument?”

“No, to see the Inquisitor’s scowl crumble when she realizes that she is _wrong_ and we truly are as good as they say—the best team ever. Ooohh, you think she might apologize? That would be _amazing_.”

“Jace, come on! Can’t you take this seriously?”

“Hey…” Jace stands up and rests his hands on Alec’s shoulders. “I _am_ taking this seriously. But my conscience is clear. For once, we did everything by the book. This was too important for me to try to cut corners. And you?” He smiles fondly. “When the Inquisitor gives you the Sword and asks for your name, I’m half expecting you to say your middle name is Aboveboard. You wouldn’t have _let_ me cut any corners if I had tried.”

Alec feels part of his tension leave his body at Jace’s touch and gentle teasing. “So… this is when we find out that your initials actually stand for Just Cocky?”

Jace laughs. “Now that’s more like it.”

Alec takes a deep breath. “Nothing to worry about. Right?”

“Just one thing.”

“What?”

“If this takes too long, it might mess up our plans for the post-ceremony celebration.”

“That would be terrible.”

“Tell me about it. We should make the Inquisitor refund us for the booze and strippers.”

Alec smirks. Their _actual_ plans involve symphony tickets for Sibelius’s _The Tempest_ —a nice way to indulge both Jace’s love of classical music and Alec’s love of Shakespeare. If the Inquisitor causes them to miss the show, she’d _better_ refund them and apologize _profusely_ to them. “I’m sure the Inquisitor will gladly agree to pay from her own pocket for you to get a lap dance, Jace.”

That’s when the Inquisitor comes in, followed by the Silent Brother.

Jace bites his lower lip to keep himself from laughing.

Alec tries to gauge from the Inquisitor’s face whether she heard his last remark, but her expression is aloof and unreadable.

Imogen Herondale wastes no time with pleasantries. “I am here to investigate a very serious allegation that, if proven true, would impede your parabatai bonding.”

Alec does his best to look as unconcerned as Jace does. It’s hard, though, with his heart thundering in his chest.

She looks between them with piercing eyes. “Would any of you like to say something before we start the proceedings?”

“How about that this is bullshit?” In spite of his choice of words, Jace’s tone is calm and even.

Alec expects the Inquisitor to scold his friend harshly for failing to show her the proper respect that her status demands, but she actually looks thoroughly unimpressed. “Your protest is duly noted, and your juvenile attitude is irrelevant. All that matters is the truth, pure and simple.” She turns to Alec. “Anything to add?”

“No, Madam Inquisitor.” Alec glances at Jace and sees him roll his eyes.

“Brother Zedekiah, please.” The Inquisitor gestures towards Alec. “Let’s begin.”

Jace’s surprise is written all over his face. After challenging the Inquisitor, he clearly expected to be interrogated first. _Maybe that’s precisely why he did it._ While Alec usually protects Jace by watching his friend’s back against lurking enemies, Jace’s preferred strategy to protect Alec tends to involve running headfirst against the enemies before they can reach Alec.

Brother Zedekiah sets the cushion on the desk, and then solemnly lifts the Soul-Sword. _“May the truth free thy soul,”_ he says right into Alec’s mind.

He places the Sword in Alec’s hands.

And… it’s okay.

The Sword is heavy, more than he expected, and rather cold to the touch, but holding it up in his two hands is just mildly uncomfortable, nothing more.

“State your name,” the Inquisitor commands.

_‘Alec Lightwood’_ is the name in his lips.

Before he can utter it, however, the runes engraved on the adamas flare up, emitting a shrill noise that pierces through Alec’s ears. His instinctive reaction is to drop the blade, but it’s like the metal has grown into his hands, cutting through his flesh and nailing the Sword to his palms.

He gasps in pain, but when he opens his mouth to yelp, something else comes out. “Alexander… Gideon… Lightwood,” he coughs.

One of the Inquisitor’s eyebrows arches in clear disapproval.

“Most people call me Alec,” he murmurs, embarrassed that he couldn’t even get past the first question—his _name_ , for Raziel’s sake!—without looking like a liar.

He looks at Jace, needing his support.

Jace winks at him and silently mouths, _“Aboveboard.”_

Alec can’t help responding with a little smile.

The Inquisitor moves on to the next question. “Have you petitioned the Clave for permission to become the parabatai of one Jonathan Christopher Wayland?”

“I have.” The Sword remains quiet as he volunteers the truth, the pain receding into an unpleasant tingling that climbs through his arms and shoulders.

“Were you the one who asked Mr. Wayland to become your parabatai?”

“No, he asked me.” For a moment Alec wonders if this is what this whole thing is all about. _Maybe no one believes that someone as talented as he is would choose me as his parabatai. Maybe they just want to make sure I haven’t blackmailed him into it or something like that._

“And you accepted it?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because he needs me.”

Alec glances at Jace again, wondering if his friend will be offended by this remark.

On the contrary, Jace is smiling, his eyes beaming.

Inquisitor Herondale notices the interaction and steps closer to Alec, crossing her arms over her chest. “What does he need you for?”

Alec tries not to be offended by the question or by her tone of voice. He gets the feeling he’ll be facing that same skepticism for the rest of his life after he and Jace are bonded. “People say Jace is the strongest Shadowhunter of his generation, and that might very well be true. But he’s not invincible, and he takes too many risks. He needs someone to watch over him, to make sure he doesn’t go too far, and to bring him home safely.”

Jace’s shoulders shake in a silent chuckle.

The Inquisitor frowns. “And why should this _‘someone’_ be you?”

_She really can’t believe he picked me!_ Well, the answer is easy. “Because he believes I can be that person for him. And he’s right.”

Jace nods. Alec recognizes the glistening softness in his eyes and has no doubt that, were they alone, Jace would be hugging him tight right now.

The Inquisitor’s voice becomes sharper. “Do you love him?”

Alec was still staring at Jace as she asked the question.

So he witnessed the very moment when Jace’s smile vanished and the glimmer in his eyes faded.

That’s what makes Alec hesitate.

The hesitation reignites the runes on the Sword, and the burning pain slices through his arms once more. Alec curses himself for it, since there’s no purer or simpler truth in his heart. “…yes.”

Of course he loves Jace. How could he not? They have been inseparable practically since they first met. The moment Jace stepped into the Institute, doing his best to push everyone away with his arrogant airs and disdainful remarks, Alec saw through the overconfident act and found a little boy in desperate need to prove his value and make himself worthy of love—feelings Alec was all too familiar with. Loving Jace was a conscious decision, the easiest decision he’s ever made. And there was never a day in his life when he regretted it.

Jace trusts and believes in him, and that, more than anything else, has made Alec more confident that maybe he can someday become the warrior and leader his parents expect him to be. He challenges Alec constantly with his appetite for competition, but he also pesters Alec into allowing himself some fun and relaxation every now and then. And he makes Alec laugh. That’s something not many people get to boast about.

Yes, Jace is a handful. In countless ways. There have been moments when the thought of kicking Jace’s ass—outside of training—was immensely tempting. And even in those moments, Alec loves him fiercely, endlessly. No one manages to push Alec’s buttons the way Jace does. For better or worse, Jace has gotten under Alec’s skin and set roots into his heart. Binding their souls together will simply finalize a process that has been in motion for years.

“Is your love for him strictly platonic?”

_What?! Of course! How can she even…_

This time, Alec feels like acid has been injected into the veins of his fingers, rushing up in seconds to his arms, shoulders, neck, and finally flooding his brain with fire and vertiginous pain. He has no control over his mind, which is abruptly engulfed by an avalanche of memories… of Jace.

Jace hugging him tight, chuckling in his ear, the citrusy scent of Jace’s verbena body wash filling his nostrils, soothing his spirit… _It’s a nice smell, that’s all…_

Jace saying Alec’s name, his luscious lips moving the vowels in a caress, opening to reveal a tempting glimpse of his tongue as it touches the palate to say the ‘L’, and letting out a warm puff of air at the ‘C’… _He says my name so often, of course I’d have noticed those details…_

Jace after a good workout session, shirtless torso gleaming with sweat, silk-soft golden hair falling over his laughing eyes… _He’s handsome. Nothing wrong in noticing that…_

Jace coming out of the shower, completely unself-conscious, towel-drying his hair while water still drips down his smooth skin… _No big deal. It’s not like I was ogling him or anything…_

Jace on top of him as they wrestle… _Just routine practice…_ pressing down on Alec’s body… _To immobilize me, that was the whole point of the exercise…_ and arousing unexpected reactions from Alec’s private parts… _Just the inconveniences of hitting puberty…_

Jace lying with his head in Alec’s lap… _What?..._ sucking his own index finger… _This never happened…_ telling Alec how much he would love to suck on Alec’s fingers instead… _No, this was just a stupid dream…_

_Dreams don’t count…_

_Dreams aren’t real…_

_This isn’t real…_

_This isn’t true…_

“Mr. Lightwood.” The Inquisitor’s voice thunders in Alec’s ears. “Is your love for Jonathan Wayland strictly platonic?”

The pain burns through every nerve in his body like an electrical current, and the only reason he’s not screaming is because…

…because…

Because he’s biting his lower lip as hard as he can to keep the answer inside.

Blood is running down his chin.

Tears are running down his face.

He can’t hold it anymore.

“…no.”

The pain recedes so suddenly that Alec sways on his feet. He’s out of breath, as if he had just finished a triathlon competition. The air feels savagely cold against his sweat-drenched skin. He opens his eyes, vaguely wondering when he closed them.

Jace is standing right there, completely still, staring at him.

And looking _horrified_.

That somehow hurts a thousand times worse than anything the Soul-Sword has put him through.

“Brother Zedekiah?” calls the Inquisitor.

The Silent Brother nods and takes the Sword off Alec’s hands.

Alec stumbles back, his legs wobbly, his whole body shaking. The taste of blood from his bruised lip makes him queasy. It’s hard to breathe.

The Inquisitor shifts her icy stare to Jace. “Your turn, Mr. Wayland.”

Jace stiffens and balls his fists. “No need.”

“Mr. Wayland…”

Jace turns to her, his face a mask of barely contained fury, his voice measured and dry. “I would like to formally withdrawal my request to become Mr. Lightwood’s parabatai.”

“I see.”

Alec feels like giant claws have slashed into his chest to grab his heart and lungs, and _squeeze_. He wonders if he could be having a heart attack.

He _hopes_ he is.

He hopes this is death taking him away, right here, right now.

He can’t bear the thought of surviving this moment and facing its consequences.

“Very well,” says the Inquisitor. “The official records will report that the ceremony was cancelled at the request of Jonathan Wayland.” Her condemnatory gaze falls upon Alec. “Further details shall not be mentioned or discussed. Ever.”

It’s both a reassurance and an admonition. She won’t reveal his secret as long as he has the sense to lock his indecent nature away. Alec understands this perfectly.

Inquisitor Herondale says nothing else before leaving the office in a huff. Brother Zedekiah at least nods slightly at both boys as he sets the Soul-Sword back on the cushion and follows the Inquisitor out.

And then they are alone in the room—Alec, Jace, and the solid, massive silence.

A storm brews in Jace’s eyes as he stares at the image of Raziel in the large stained glass window behind the desk. His hands, still clenched into tight fists, are visibly shaking, knuckles completely white.

Alec doesn’t know what to say.

He doesn’t know what to _think_.

He doesn’t even know who he _is_ anymore.

_No, that’s a lie._

He is Alexander Gideon Lightwood.

And he is in love with Jace.

He takes a deep breath into his aching lungs, wipes the blood off his chin with the back of his hand, and tries to regain control over his voice. “J-Jace…”

“Don’t!” Jace barks without facing him. There’s a note of desperation in the command. “Not a word!”

Alec clamps his mouth shut reflexively, dimly aware of the stinging pain in his lower lip. It’s hard to notice it when his heart feels like paper going through the shredder.

Jace finally looks at him.

Alec can barely recognize his best friend’s face. In all the years they’ve known each other, he’s never seen Jace so profoundly distraught.

“You _ruined_ it,” Jace sobs. “You ruined _everything_.”

Alec watches in silence as Jace dashes out of the room with the speed of a man being chased by Hellhounds.

They are not parabatai.

They will _never_ be parabatai now.

Nevertheless, Alec feels half of his soul be ripped away from him to follow Jace wherever he is going.

In its place, nothing but a gaping wound remains.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Week 4 of Jalec Sexy September – Soulmates
> 
> Title inspired by a quote from “The Importance of Being Earnest” by Oscar Wilde: “The truth is rarely pure and never simple.”
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr as morgandeeyue.


End file.
